The Silent
by manicDROID
Summary: Flay’s death haunts them both until a woman from her past arrives to avenge her. When a way to bring Flay back is discovered, will she give her lost friend life or choose to keep her resting in peace while working her own way into the Malfoy-Krum scheme?
1. Paradise Sin

To all my reviewers of _The Strange_ who were sad to see the story end: here is the sequel. My favorite gruesome twosome is back, Flay Lestrange and Draco Malfoy are at it again. Need a recap or just haven't read part one? Read on. Bellatrix's daughter, Flay Lestrange, is attending Hogwarts in her 7th year under the surname Black to keep her true identity unknown. She and Draco have been sent on a mission by the Dark Lord to annihilate every last wizard residing in Hogwarts. The story takes place during the first term and culminates right before winter break when I recreate the Battle of Hogwarts. The rest of the term is basically character development and the way their relationship evolves. I strongly suggest reading _The Strange_ first because Draco and Flay don't have a stereotypical relationship; it cannot be generalized so you wouldn't understand it without having read about it previously. But that's just my opinion, after all, I am the author..

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_The Silent_

You fear for your life because you fear for your soul

When only the pure of heart die peacefully and make it to Paradise…

Poison vials like hard candy, feel sweet death roll over your tongue and chip your front teeth because the afterlife waits for no one these days. No way to bargain with the Devil now: there's a lack of evil in Hell.

Economic crashes raise depressions, rising hackles of modern society when sinners are revealed from desperate corners and bleed to survive in dark shadows.

Crayons cover paper but their paths aren't smooth: holes with skips and jumps like small marks of truth revealing lifeless moments in a broken home. Loneliness envelops all hope as black seconds tick to death. She'd like an appointment for next Tuesday.

High heels and stiletto boots show a weakness behind black leather jackets, corruption involving more than one dead heart but no one seems to pay them mind.

My two cents alone won't be enough to cure the world of sickness. We suffer from a constant urge to kill each other, but more often than not it goes overlooked. Brutal murders in your kitchen: it becomes a game. Would you like to be the queen of spades? Thirteen points to whoever scores you first.

Fondle lost deceptive hopes of truth six feet under the ground, but no one knows the truth because no one lives to tell the tale of three-headed guardian beasts and riverboats made to float over dead man's seas.

I think it would be a virtue to see past manipulation and gaze into motivation. But when mass murders are most common across waters we forget to turn to schools where students terminally ill with maniacal depression lose sight of the value of living but are afraid to die alone.

Innocence depreciates by the day: it's value plagued by lines of white. Sold and exchanged like an American government, malice oozes from its pores. If white is nothing more than a lack of color, color me colorless and I'll be the ghost of you forever.

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Not exactly a first chapter so much as a prologue poem, but I wrote it mad long ago and I thought it would give an idea of the general undertone I want the story to have. R&R(:THANKS


	2. Divine Incantations

"It seems as if you have done an excellent job of dispatching a close family friend, Mr. Malfoy," said a grey silk voice from the darkness of his office. He glanced up from his papers to see who had so easily surpassed his security but she had yet to emerge from the shadows.

"Who are you? I tend not to be fond of these games," he said wearily as he laid his pen on his documents and leaned back in his plush black chair, covertly reaching for his wand in his lap under the desk.

"The youngest Lestrange was my only friend," said the sullen voice as her dark outline took form, almost as if she had come from within the wall. Two steps further and before him stood a beautiful young woman. She had long, platinum blonde hair and her tall, heroin chic figure was draped in a sleek, royal blue robe that matched her deep, ocean blue eyes. Her brooding face was young and heavenly but aged by psychological trauma.

"Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do," the Malfoy heir explained hesitantly to the ill-humored woman. "She had to be stopped. Flay became," he paused to think of the right words, "obsessed with death."

"Murderer!" she accused forcefully, stepping forward in a restrained lunge, "How dare you speak her name?" She was at the foot of his desk, leaning over to get in face, "Shameless fool!" she spat mercilessly. He went to lift his wand but hers was there first and she tsked, "You are not faster than me, filthy rat. Do not delude yourself, it was Flay who assassinated He Who Must not be Named!"

"Are you a veela?" he asked nonchalantly, lifting his open hand slowly as a show of his white flag.

She leaned back, away from the desk, "Yes," not even her fingers touched it, as if it had been painted in poison. In confront to her porcelain white skin, his almost appeared to have a light tan. There was not a single freckle or mar on her perfect skin for all that he could see exposed. It had been his first hint. The second was her voice. Though angelic and pure in its tone, it still was not enough to challenge the melodic tune that was Flay calling his name. "_Draco!_" she would say with a smile that made him think of lilies floating aimlessly in a shaded pond. "Why do you ask?" she said sharply, breaking him from his reverie.

"You look like one," he answered in a voice that was reminiscent of his younger days at Hogwarts, the days where he would insult the Golden Trio and the occasional professor that rubbed him the wrong way. "What exactly did you come to accomplish? Get it done; I am a very busy man now that the Dark Lord has vanished," he never said dead, unlike the others who didn't know better. He knew what had really happened, how his spirit still stewed unawakened within the depths of Hell.

"But has he?" she pondered aloud, silently invoking the doubt that fed his fears. She thoughtlessly moved his papers aside, giving them a second glance before picking up the small stack and meticulously aligning the edges. "You know, Draco," she lingered dangerously on the syllables, "Someone might mistake you for showing no remorse."

"I always regret the death of a loved one," he said cautiously, feeling it from the core as her deep blue eyes penetrated his soul and saw things in him that no one else did.

"I'm here to make you miserable, Malfoy," she grinned cruelly and gave him a sly glance before turning to leave to the darkness from which she came forth. "I have yet to speak to my brother. Let Viktor know I'm in town," she said dismissively, disappearing as if she had walked through the very wall itself.


	3. Wicked Wednesday

"Your sister came to me in my office last week," said a somewhat disgruntled Draco, "What does that bitchy witch want?" He had just pricked himself with his pristine white quill and was now gently sucking on the tip of his thumb. The wound pinched like a tiny hermit crab might in the shallows of the ocean rock pools.

One stoic face to another, Viktor's smooth calm seemed to evaporate under the boiling glare Draco pinned him under, "Viktorya can become very violent at times. It would be best for her to stay home in Siberia. I do not know why our family has allowed her to," he paused to think of a more politically correct term, "be discharged."

"Discharged? We have enough problems with so much disorder in the wizarding world without your psychotic sister brewing more chaos," Draco growled angrily.

Viktor chuckled heartily at his partner's disdain, "It seems she has taken a particular dislike to you." His deep brown eyes sparkled with laughter as he knew what his sister was capable of and the misery she most likely had planned out for the Malfoy heir. But he choked on his euphoria as he remembered her reason for coming. "Do you ever miss," he paused, hesitant to say the simple four letters that came together as a name that held unspeakable meaning, "her?" he asked tonelessly.

Draco completely ignored him, not giving so much as a twitch of discomfort, "How is it that your sister is a veela?"

"She is not," he said brusquely, annoyed that he had been ignored and wondering why he had asked such an odd question. "Did she say that?"

"Yes. Along with being criminally insane, is your sister a pathological liar as well?" As soon as the words left his mouth, the late Slytherin found himself back against the cold stone floor, blood pooling steadily in his mouth and creeping slowly through the grout. It spread across the room like a macabre painting.

"You will not speak of my sister with such crude words," Viktor snarled, getting to his feet with his hands still in tight fists. "Viktorya is very ill. She has a certain hate for you at the moment and until it passes you are in grave danger, Draco Malfoy," he said in a low voice. His eyes spoke the peril that words could not and Draco began to understand why his associate had been so initially shocked at the news. "I hit you for my sister and for my friend, because Flay would have done more than punch you if she were here."

"What I had with that woman is beyond your comprehension," he began, getting to his feet slowly, pulling a white cotton napkin with lace trim from his back pocket and holding it to his mouth and nose, "Before her I was a fool but she changed me in a way that I will forever love her for." He sounded distracted as he thought of the time when they danced together in the snow the day of Halloween. It hadn't been so long ago.

"Foul slug! You know not the meaning of love," hidden in the veil of shadows came the cool, smooth voice of Viktorya. "And no, Mr. Malfoy, it's not that I am a liar," she shot sardonically, "It's is that you are not a believer."


	4. Silent Sunday

Hello readers :) I missed you guys! Life has been rough without my external drive, but I have finally loaded it all back up and written the next chapter! Hope it makes up for the unannounced Hiatus... RR, enjoy.

PS, seeing Deathly Hallows II soon, so excited!

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"I'm your father's daughter," she said smugly, peering at Draco carefully from under thick black lashes, "Not your mother's though."

"Lies," he dismissed without a second consideration, Viktor, though, thought twice, "You're insane." Draco turned to look at Viktor, who sat deep in thought in the plush chair by the fireplace of Draco's living room in the Manor. "What are you thinking about so intently? You're bloody sister's gone mad."

"Will you tell us more?" he inquired gently, not sure what to think of the situation. Was there more to the story? Or should he humor her for the sake of her mental state? She was a lunatic after all.

"My father, Lucius Malfoy; my mother, veela. I was the illegitimate child and your father made a deal with the Krums," she turned to Viktor, "That's right, brother," she hissed, "I'm talking about your parents. He promised them good favor with the Dark Lord if they took me as their own, threw me in an asylum first chance they got, and never mentioned a word of it."

Draco narrowed his eyes, taking in the story for exactly what it was, a fabrication from thin air. But what if there was truth to the matter? She had his father's silky, straight blonde hair and blue eyes, the sculpted face of a Malfoy, only feminine and refined, like a veela. It was too much to accept, if Viktor hadn't seemed less than surprised. He saw the similarities as well.

"And darling Flay," she began, pausing to honor the deceased with a moment of silence, "Her cover was so perfect even she was hidden behind the veil of a lie." Viktorya walked to the fireplace and placed her hands up to the heat, not daring to look at the boys as she told the next part, "We share a similar story, one of unfaithful fathers and unheard of mothers. While Bellatrix Lestrange's daughter died in the womb, the Dark Lord's daughter killed the woman who gave birth to her."

Draco watched the flames dance in her eyes, "And so he chose to keep the living and the dead together," he mused darkly, deception lingering in the foreground of his thoughts.

"To think that poor Bellatrix never even knew that her own daughter was stolen from her, although I'm sure she would be ecstatic to know the Dark Lord chose her to be the rumored mother of his daughter, whom he named Flay," the corner of her mouth tugged upwards into a small smile as she thought of the one person who never treated her like a psychopath, but like an equal, an equally insane woman.

"So were you in an asylum your whole life because you're crazy or were you crazy because you were in an asylum your whole life?" Draco didn't know if he was scoffing at the witch or her unlikely story, "Who, pray tell, told you this?" Viktor had been wondering the same thing, knowing that, if her story was indeed reality, it could only have been a handful of people.

"One hears many things," she said as if it were the most obvious fact of life, "All you have to do is listen."

"Viktor," the blonde wizard shot off all of a sudden, "You don't really believe this rubbish, do you?" but Viktor faltered in his response, opening his mouth but closing it at a loss for words, "The padded walls probably told her."

"It makes sense," Viktor said, explaining his logic, "I'm sorry Draco, she looks nothing like anyone in my family, but she surprisingly like you. I wonder, should I ask my parents, if they would tell me the truth, whatever the truth may be."

"They told me and I'm not even their child," she mused, muttering softly to herself and staring off into the fire as it began to glow green, "Nothing to fear now that the Dark Lord is gone," were her last words as she walked into the fireplace and muttered her next location too softly to hear.


End file.
